Codes and Signals
by Lady Emily
Summary: A coded phone call from Frank to Nancy leads both detectives to reevaluate their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Short little three shot that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I'm not sure how I feel about it, so be sure to tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I am making no money from the writing of this story. I lifted the characters from Simon and Schuster (and, full disclosure, I lifted part of the premise from an episode of _Psych._)

* * *

Frank Hardy groaned a little as he woke up feeling cold, stiff, and battered. His vision was blurry and his head was pounding, which he instantly identified as signs of a possible concussion. His hands, secured to the back legs of his chair with long swathes of duct tape, had lost all feeling. Judging from the angle of the sun streaming in through the dirty windows, he hadn't been out long, but the way the combination of shock and blood loss had him drifting in and out of consciousness was playing havoc with his sense of time.

His stomach roiled, and he took a few slow, deep breaths through his nose trying to calm it. He wasn't sure how much of the nausea was due to his injuries, and how much was due to the fact that he was sitting in the cabin of a boat, which he could feel rocking gently under him. This was concerning, because the last place he remembered being was behind the wheel of his car, being t-boned at an intersection. He grimaced. He really liked that car.

His eyelids were sticky and gritty with dried blood, and he guessed that the gash where he'd hit his head on the window had stopped bleeding, or at least slowed down. It was his leg he was worried about; he wasn't sure what kind of shrapnel had sliced his thigh open, but from the amount of blood still seeping up through the dark material of his jeans, he figured he'd probably nicked an artery. One of his captors had been kind enough to remove his belt and cinch it around his leg just above the wound, but even with the makeshift tourniquet, Frank knew that he was operating under some very serious time pressure.

There was a noise to his right, in the kitchen area, and Frank managed to open his blood-crusted eyes enough to see a man sitting at the counter. A small guy, older, wearing thick glasses and a look of grim concentration on his face. A sinking feeling came over Frank as he recognized the substance that the man was so carefully handling: a large, claylike lump of plastic explosive.

Frank had been in worse situations, but none were coming immediately to mind.

The fuzziness in his head meant that it took a few extra seconds to put the puzzle pieces together, but come together they did.

He waited for the old guy to lay down the lump of C-4 he was working with before speaking.

"Hey." His voice came out weak and raspy. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey. Thanks for the tourniquet."

"Welcome." The man answered gruffly, barely sparing him a glance.

"And..." Frank took a deep breath. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, but why didn't you just kill me?" It was definitely a dangerous line of questioning to get into, but in this situation, he didn't have the luxury of biding his time and waiting for an opening. If he didn't want to bleed out on the floor of some dirty houseboat, he had to force some kind of action to happen before he was too weak to do anything about it.

This time the man set down his tools and stood up, coming over to him. "We had a bug in the bank. Heard you asking about the drop ceilings in the vault and knew you'd figured it out. Had to get to you before you could tell anybody. Then Jake—" he seemed to realize his mistake and started over. "_We_ figured that it might be a good idea to have a hostage, in case we don't get away clean."

Frank nodded. He'd known the guy had a partner, or, more likely, judging from his attitude, a boss. "So when you saw me leaving the bank alone, you saw your chance, hit my car, and brought me here." He wasn't sure whether to be grateful that Joe and Nancy hadn't been with him, to to curse his own stupidity for going to the bank to check out his theory alone.

"Yeah." the man said. "Sorry, kid, it's nothing personal. But everyone in Bayport knows the Hardy family. You were the last people we wanted sticking your nose into our business."

Frank managed a halfhearted smile. "Thanks." he said. "For what it's worth, your heist is pretty brilliant. Enter the vault through the ceiling by breaking into the office above, right? Blow open the floor, go through the drop ceiling, grab whatever you can, replace the ceiling panel on your way back up, and by the time security gets there you're gone without a trace. No one discovers the damage upstairs until people start coming in to work the next morning, and by that time you're already on the boat, halfway down the coast." The man looked grudgingly impressed that Frank had figured all this out. "If the bank manager hadn't gotten an anonymous tip that something was about to go down and brought us in to investigate, I think it would have gone without a hitch."

The man scowled. "It still _will_ go without a hitch." He paused and reconsidered. "I mean, aside from you."

Frank shrugged as best he could with his hands still immobilized with duct tape. Even that slight movement made his leg throb in agony. "Joe could still figure it out. He's smarter than he gets credit for."

"Well, if he does, we have leverage." The man looked at him pointedly. "You think, if your brother has to make a choice between catching us and saving your life, he's gonna pick us?"

It was a fair point.

The man left the question hanging in the air as he went back to the counter and sat down, picking up a detonator and adjusting the wiring.

Frank felt the dizziness reclaiming him and struggled to focus on thinking of an escape plan. His instincts told him to keep the guy talking. The more he knew about what was happening, the better his chances of getting out of it alive. "That's... a lot of C-4 just to make a little hole in the floor." he observed mildly.

Again, the man looked grudgingly impressed with his observation. "It ain't all for the bank." His glasses magnified his dark, weaselly eyes, making it all the easier to see when his eyes flickered briefly to the cabin door.

Frank followed his gaze and immediately noticed the small hook attached to the door. A thin, nearly invisible piece of wire hung harmlessly from it, waiting only to be connected to a detonator and leaving Frank with no doubt that his captors intended to booby trap the cabin when they left to commit the heist. Even if someone did know where to find him, just opening the cabin door once the trip wire was in place would set off the C-4 charge. Even half of what the guy was using would be enough to blow the whole boat to smithereens.

Another wave of nausea hit him and he hunched over automatically, his head and leg protesting the movement in unison. Willing himself not to vomit, he stared at the floor until it passed. The cabin wasn't clean by a long shot, and the floor was littered with dirty footprints, fast food wrappers, and other miscellaneous debris. A scrap of pink paper caught his eye—a receipt for an arrangement of white lilies from a place called Green's Thumb Florist and Nursery. The idea of this wizened little explosives technician buying flowers seemed strange, but the name on the slip was Kenneth McGill. "Are you Ken?" he asked.

The man looked surprised and suspicious. "How'd you know?"

"Detective." Frank said with a pained smile.

Ken glared at him, finishing up with the plastic explosive. The smaller of the two bombs was laid gently in the bottom of a black duffel bag on the counter. He took the wire off the hook on the door and connected it to the larger bomb. The trap wasn't set, but it would only take moments to put it in place.

Frank watched as Ken washed his hands, meticulously cleaning any traces of the plastique from under his fingernails. Then he reached into his pocket, drew out a gold ring, and replaced it on his finger. A wedding band.

The careful way he treated the ring told Frank it meant a lot to him, and he doubted that the man who was preparing to flee the country would voluntarily leave his beloved wife behind... of course, coupled with the white lilies...

A crazy idea began to form in Frank's mind. His physical strength was waning rapidly. If he was going to get out of here, he needed to get a message out. He could try to convince Ken to let him make a call. Joe was out; Ken was already well-aware and suspicious of the Hardy family. But he hadn't indicated that he knew anything about Nancy, or that she was working with them. If Frank could get a message to her...

He would have to play his cards just right, play on Ken's weaknesses... like his dead wife.

"Ken..." Frank didn't have to work hard to fake the expression of pain and defeat that he wore. "Can I... I've got to ask you a favor."

Ken looked at him skeptically.

Frank sighed. "Look. I'm dead, okay? You and I both know that. I know your plan, I've seen your face. There's no way you and your partner are gonna let me go, and that's if I even survive until the heist," he nodded at his bloodied leg. "Which, honestly, I'm not feeling that optimistic about."

"What are you getting at?" Ken asked. "You want a last cigarette or something?"

"A phone call."

"Are you nuts?" Ken scoffed. "You think I'm just gonna let you call someone, probably your brother, and just lead them straight to us?"

"Not Joe." Frank said quickly, trying to sell this next part for all he was worth. "My girlfriend." Hopefully, his actual girlfriend Callie would forgive him for the little white lies he was about to tell. Better yet, maybe she'd never know.

One corner of Ken's lip twitched upward, whether in amusement or sympathy, Frank couldn't say. "Your girl, huh?"

"Yeah." Frank murmured. "Please. It wouldn't be for long. I'm not going to tell her where we are. Even if I knew I wouldn't tell her." He jerked his head at the homemade bomb sitting next to the door. "You think I want her walking into that?"

Ken looked thoughtful now. "What's she like?"

"She's... she's got blonde hair, but it's red in the sunlight. Blue eyes. Beautiful." Once he'd said that, there could be no doubt that he was talking about Nancy, not Callie, and he swallowed the guilt that came with the words. "But not the kind of beautiful where that's all that's important, you know? She's more than that; she's a genuinely good person, always trying to help people. She gets along great with my brother, which is easier said than done sometimes. She's brave, and curious, and adventurous, and funny. And smart. God, she's brilliant." The words to describe Nancy came easily. Too easily.

Ken was actually smiling. "She sounds like some kind of girl."

"She is." Frank said. "She's amazing, and I just... if this is it, I have to say goodbye to her." He watched Ken's face carefully as he made his final plea. "I just want to hear her voice one last time, you know?"

"I know." Ken said softly, and Frank knew he had him. "Fine." the older man said finally. "Just for a minute. And if you say anything I don't like, you'll be dead before I end the call."

"That's fair." Frank agreed, his mind already racing ahead, planning what he would tell her. When Ken turned away, he looked out the grimy window, trying to find any landmark that would signify his location.

Ken came back, Frank's cell phone in hand. "I'll dial." he said, still somewhat distrusting. "What's your girl's name?"

"Nancy." Again, that hot rush of guilt. But there was no time for feeling bad about the lie. Callie might be his girlfriend, but Nancy was the one who was working this case with him.

Ken scrolled through Frank's contacts until he found Nancy's name, then hit 'call' and held the phone to Frank's ear.

She picked up almost immediately. "Frank!"

He swallowed hard. Callie might be his girlfriend, but damn, did it feel good to hear Nancy's voice. "Hey Nan."

"'Hey Nan'?" Nancy repeated. "That's all you can say? You scared the hell out of us! Where are you?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Frank, we found your car and there was blood everywhere. What happened? Are you okay?"

"Listen, Nan, I can't answer any questions, so don't ask me any, all right? Just listen. I'm—I'm in some hot water. And this time... well, I think this is it for me."

"What? No!" The words came out sounding strangled, and Frank took half a second to feel guilty for telling her like that. "Frank, you're going to be fine. Just, just talk to me, please!"

Frank smiled into the phone. "Hey, Nan, you remember the first time we worked together? You flagged me down the minute you boarded that train, and I had to pretend not to recognize you because I was undercover. But we made a pretty good team, the two of us."

"The train?" Nancy repeated, but Frank continued before Ken could get suspicious.

"And what about the time we crashed the Sarconne U.N. dinner? And that time we went all the way to Egypt to see Senator Nasser speak at a banquet?"

"Frank..." There was a question in her voice, but she did as he said and didn't ask it. "Go on."

Frank opened his mouth, but Ken cut him off. "Hey, can the trip down memory lane." he hissed. "I said keep it short."

"I've always thought of you as my leading lady, you see." Frank said quickly. Ken was looking at him strangely now; hopefully he would attribute Frank's odd word choices and rambling to shock or the onset of delirium. "Missed you when you went on that trip. I was so afraid I was gonna blow it with you."

Ken was getting impatient now. "Just tell her you love her and say goodbye!"

"Nan, before I go, I just have to say one more thing." he said obediently, and then paused. If they both made it through this alive, this definitely had the potential to make things awkward between them in the future.

"Yes, Frank?" Nancy prompted softly.

"I love you."

He actually heard the sharp intake of her breath, could picture the surprise and embarrassment on her face. Before she could say anything else, he moved on. "I wish I could say I'll see you later, but—"

"Frank?" she cut him off quickly, breathlessly. "I think I... I love you too."

He blinked in surprise. His mouth dried up.

_What?_

"Um, goodbye, Nancy." It seemed painfully inadequate, but what else could he say?

"Wait! Fra—!"

Ken ended the call.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks a thousand to my reviewers for chapter one! Keep it up?

* * *

"Wait! Frank! Frank!" Nancy cried into the phone, but the connection was gone. She immediately dialed it back, but it went straight to voicemail. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she stared at the phone in her hand. She had pulled over on the side of the road to take Frank's call, and now she let the sound of the passing traffic surround her, just for a second.

What had just happened?

She and Frank had always been close, and, yes, there had always been a certain mutual attraction, but the conversation they'd just had had left her reeling. Yes, she and Ned were 'off-again'... but if Frank was in such danger, if he was really trying to say his last goodbyes, why hadn't he called _Callie_?

There was only one explanation that made sense: the call wasn't to be taken at face value. He was trying to send her a signal.

She took a deep breath and tried to focus on what she knew. Frank was hurt, somewhere, and obviously captured. He'd made the call to give her a message while the kidnapper was listening, which explained why he was talking so strangely. And she'd gone ahead and used the situation to make a completely inappropriate confession of her feelings for him.

Putting that last out of mind for the moment, she dialed Joe's number. They'd split up to look into the leads on Frank's disappearance, Joe to the bank where he'd last been seen, Nancy to track down any witnesses of the crash.

Joe picked up on the first ring. "You find him?" When Joe was anxious he tended to dispense with formalities like saying hello.

"No, but he called me. Something's happened, Joe. I think he's been kidnapped and was trying to give me a coded message."

"He called you? Why didn't he call me?" Joe complained. "What was the message?"

Nancy swallowed hard, fighting the tears that were suddenly welling up behind her eyes. "I'm not sure, Joe. I think he was trying to give me clues to his location, but... I don't know Bayport as well as you guys. I don't know why he called me. But he... he sounded bad, Joe. He was talking like he thought he was going to... I mean, all the blood, in the car..."

Joe's voice softened, but the undercurrent of anxiety didn't go away. "Calm down, Nance. Just tell me what he said. We'll talk it out."

Nancy nodded determinedly, even though Joe couldn't see her. "Well, first he said he couldn't tell me where he was and that he couldn't answer any questions. Then, he started talking about the first case we worked together. But he said it was on a train, which is wrong. It was on a cruise ship. They couldn't be holding him on a cruise ship, could they?"

"There's nowhere in Bayport for a cruise ship to dock." Joe said. "Unless they took him to New York City."

"He hasn't been gone very long, though." Nancy reasoned. "Maybe he just meant he's on a boat. He did use the expression that he was 'in hot water.'"

"Water. Could be. Maybe the marina?" Joe said. "But it's huge. There's hundreds of boats there."

"We'll have to narrow it down when we get there." Nancy said. "Meet you at the entrance in five minutes?"

"Already on my way." He hung up without saying goodbye.

She reached the marina first, and by the time Joe peeled into the parking spot beside her, she thought she might have puzzled out the next clue. Joe stayed close to her side as she strode down the cement walkway lining the shore. "Frank said that when I first saw him, I 'flagged' him down." Nancy explained as they walked. "I'm thinking that means that wherever he is, he can see _that_." She pointed straight ahead, to the huge flagpole that flew the flags of the United States, New York state, and Bayport.

"Good thinking." Joe said approvingly. "That narrows it down... a bit..." But he couldn't hide his dismay at the sheer number of boats tied to the dock near the flagpole. Frank could be on any one of them, and there was no way to search them all.

Nancy was still poring over the conversation in her head. "He referenced the Sarconne crown jewels case in New York City, and the Senator Nasser assassination plot in Egypt. Oh! And he said the 'two of us' made a great team. I'm thinking that might mean that the bank robber has a partner."

"Okay..."

"And then he... he started saying some personal stuff." Nancy blushed slightly. "He said I was his leading lady. And that he missed me when I went on a trip."

"What trip?" Joe asked, frowning.

Nancy shrugged. "He didn't say. He—" She stopped suddenly. "See you later."

"What?"

"It's the name of a boat!" Nancy said excitedly. "Frank said, 'I wish I could say I'll see you later,' and look!" Sure enough, they were standing in front of a yacht with the words _Sea You Later_ emblazoned on its side.

Joe didn't look certain. "It could be a coincidence, Na—never mind. Check it out." He pointed to a smaller boat docked a few yards down that donned the proud title _Leading Lady_.

"_Sea Mist_." Nancy murmured, reading the name of the boat next to the _Leading Lady_. "See. Missed. He named that one too."

"Okay, so which one is he on?" Joe asked.

Nancy bit her lip. "None of them." she guessed. "Wherever he is, he can read the names of these three boats. If you were going to stash a hostage, which one would you put him on?"

Joe looked around, considering carefully. "That one." he said finally, pointing to a rather run-down cruiser at the end of the row. "It's at the end, so not many people walking by, and closer to the open ocean in case they need to make a run for it. Plus it's so dirty people can barely see in the windows anyway."

"Good choice." Nancy agreed, but before she could say anything more, several police cruisers pulled up just behind them.

Officer Con Riley, a friend of the Hardys, was one of the first cops to leave his vehicle. "Joe Hardy and Nancy Drew. Why am I not surprised to find you here?"

Joe smiled weakly. "What can we say? We like to be where the action is. Speaking of which, what exactly is happening here?"

Con quirked an eyebrow at him. "You mean you don't know. We got a call, shots fired, from a passerby not ten minutes ago. From that boat on the end there." He watched as the blood seemed to drain out of the two teens' faces. "You two wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

Since Joe seemed too stricken to speak for the moment, Nancy spoke up. "We think Frank's on that boat." She laid a shaking hand on Joe's shoulder. He reached up expressionlessly and placed his own over it.

"Of course he is." Con closed his eyes and sighed. "Dammit." He signaled to the other officers, and they carefully approached the boat.

Nancy's stomach clenched as they closed in. Shots fired... Did that mean Frank was dead? He'd said as much when he'd called, but she hadn't believed it until just now. He'd called _her._ _She _was the one he'd trusted to save him.

His last words to her had been a message that she'd interpreted too late. She'd blown it.

"_I was so afraid I was gonna blow it with you."_

"_Missed you when you went on that trip."_

"_What about the time we crashed the Sarconne U.N. dinner? And that time we went all the way to Egypt to see Senator Nasser speak at a banquet?"_

The last puzzle piece fell into place with what seemed like a audible click, and Nancy gasped. The officers were on the deck of the cruiser now, and she sprinted out of Joe's reach and followed them, ignoring their hissed protests until she found herself face-to-face with the leader. "Watch out for a trip wire!" she whispered urgently. "There's a bomb!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you, thank you, **thank you** to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I so appreciate your comments! Also, I lied about the length: it became four chapters, on account of neither Joe nor Callie wanting to shut up.

Enjoy chapter three!

* * *

"Hey bro, how you feeling?" Joe sauntered into the hospital room and dropped into the chair at Frank's bedside with a casual air, but his eyes belied his utter and profound relief at finally being able to see his brother for the first time since he'd been rescued.

"Better." Frank said. He was still pale, even in contrast with the white gauze used to cover the gash on his head, and his arms and face were lined with bruises from the car crash. "Now that I've got enough blood again. How are you doing?"

"If you're asking how many years you've taken off my life by scaring me in the past eight hours, the answer is thirteen and a half."

Frank chuckled. "I think you're being a little melodramatic. How do you come to thirteen and a half?"

Joe glared at him and began counting them off on his fingers. "Six months for getting in a car crash, five for disappearing from said car crash leaving no trace except for copious amounts of blood, two for the freaky coded goodbye phone call, two for when Con showed up to tell us shots had been fired in the same boat we'd just figured out you were in, one when they brought out McGill in a bodybag, and three more when they brought you out unconscious and drenched in blood."

Frank frowned at the reminder of the older man's death. When Jake had returned to the boat and found that his partner had allowed Frank to make a phone call, he'd been furious. Furious enough to say to hell with the plan and get rid of his liability of a partner immediately with two bullets to the back of the head. If Frank hadn't managed to stay conscious long enough to point out his usefulness as a hostage, he didn't doubt that his fate would have been the same as Ken's. "Okay, but thirteen and a half still seems high."

"Pretty sure you took a few years off Nancy, too. I wonder if she's stopped shaking yet." Joe added.

"Shaking?" Frank frowned. "Is she okay?"

"Think you just freaked her out, what with the phone call and all. It's a lot of pressure to be responsible for figuring out how to save someone's life." Joe reminded him.

"I knew she would."

"It was close, though." Joe admitted. "She stopped the cops literally seconds before they would have opened the cabin and hit the trip wire. She knew that boat was about to explode and I don't think it ever occurred to her _not_ to run right onto it. One thing you gotta love about Nan: she's got guts."

"I know she does." Frank said pensively. _Brave..._ That was one of the ways he'd described her to Ken, when he was trying to convince him that he was in love with her. He hadn't spoken to Nancy since the phone call, and he still wasn't sure what he was going to say to her when he did.

"For a minute there the cops weren't sure whether she was warning them about a bomb or threatening them with one. She probably would have been taken back to the station in handcuffs if Con hadn't known who she was." Joe said, shaking his head with a rueful grin.

Frank frowned at his brother for laughing at the thought of Nancy being taken away in cuffs.

"I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't been busy thinking you were dead." Joe said darkly, again for all the world as though the whole situation were Frank's fault.

"I'm sorry, Joe." Frank apologized. "I didn't mean to be kidnapped."

Joe sighed. "Oh, fine. I forgive you."

"Not that you're one to lecture; you spend more time kidnapped than at home." Frank joked. "Mom and Dad are talking about subletting your room."

"Ha-ha."

There was a tap on the doorframe and the boys looked up to see Callie Shaw standing in the doorway. "I'm glad you guys can be so lighthearted about kidnapping." she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Hey Cal." Frank said warmly, but his smile was a little strained. Seeing her brought all the guilt from the phone call rushing back. Callie had been his girl for a long time. She was just as beautiful as Nancy, fiery, smart... He told himself once more that he'd only chosen to call Nancy because she was part of the case.

"Can I come in?" she asked, returning the smile.

"Of course." Frank said.

"If you must." Joe said at the same time, causing Frank to reach over and smack him in the shoulder.

Callie bypassed the chair on the opposite side of the bed, instead perching right on the mattress and leaning down to brush her lips lightly across Frank's. "How are you feeling?"

Frank swallowed, picking up her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Fine."

* * *

"Why'd you call her?" Callie asked later, when they were alone. "I'm just... I'm just curious."

Frank started guiltily. "What do you mean?"

Her brown eyes stayed locked on their clasped hands as she answered. "Con told me what happened. He said the kidnapper let you make a phone call to say goodbye to your girlfriend, and that's how you got your message to Nancy."

"Yeah." Frank said. He knew Callie, knew she was trying her best not to seem jealous, but there was no mistaking the hurt on her face. He hated that he was the one who'd put it there.

"You could have called me." she said softly. "I've helped you with your cases before, I know how these things work. And I would've understood your message. I know you pretty darn well, Frank Hardy, and I know Bayport too. A lot better than her."

"I know, Callie, but-"

Her lip quivered, ever so slightly. "And if you really had died... It should have been me, Frank. I should have been the one you called to say goodbye to."

"Callie, I'm sorry." He reached up his other hand to wipe away the single pair of tears that had fallen from her eyes. The kicker was that it was all true. Callie had worked dozens of cases with him and Joe, and she'd always come through when they needed her. "And you're right. You've never let me down on a case before."

She sniffed and pulled away from his reach. "But you trust her more, because she's a detective, right?"

"No," Frank protested. "Not more, just... differently." Suddenly he was feeling very tired. "I don't know what you want me to say, Cal."

"I don't know either." she admitted ruefully. "If you say you called her because she's a detective, it means she's something I'll never be to you. And if it was for another reason... Well, either way, it means that when you're in trouble she's the one you call."

One of the nurses poked her head in the door. "Visiting hours are just about over." she informed them.

Callie nodded her acknowledgement, sitting up straight and quickly wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Frank. I didn't mean to freak. I guess... it just hit me that you almost died today, you know?"

"Hey, you don't have anything to apologize for." Frank said gently. He reached for her hand once more as she got up to leave. "Callie, when I made that call, I was just trying to get out alive. I wasn't thinking about any of this."

She scooped up her purse, kissed him on the forehead, and gave him a regretful smile. "I know." she said. "But you are now."

* * *

It was the next afternoon before he got the chance to ask Joe about Nancy again. "So you haven't talked to her today?"

"Yeah, we talked." Joe frowned at his brother. "I'm sure Collig's just got her tied up at the station. You know how he gets about teen detectives. Probably just wants to put the fear of the law into her."

"I guess..." Frank agreed halfheartedly.

Joe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Okay, what's up with you?"

"Nothing."

"And yet, you're wearing your brooding face. Is it about Nancy? She's fine, Frank." he smirked. "I'm sure she'll come to see you when she can. It's not like she wasn't worried about you. _Trust me_, she was."

Frank shifted uncomfortably against his pillows. "I had to tell Nancy that I loved her."

Joe blinked at him, the unexpected announcement pushing the teasing to the wayside. "You _what_?"

The explanation tumbled out of Frank's mouth. "On the phone. McGill thought I was calling my girlfriend to tell her I loved her and say goodbye. That was the whole reason he let me call."

"Well, you did what you had to do." Joe said. "She obviously knows it was a coded message."

"Yeah, but... she said it back." It was the first time he'd said it out loud, and he couldn't help the trace of wonder that seeped into his voice.

"Oh. Oh man_._" Joe said, before singsonging, "Awk-ward."

"Shut it."

"Well, maybe it was just a confirmation or something. Like to tell you she got the message." Joe theorized helpfully. "I mean, Nan knows you're with Callie. She's not really the type to just thoughtlessly blurt out a confession like that. Not without making a flow chart or something first."

"Yeah." For some reason, the idea that it had only been a signal bothered him more than he cared to admit.

"Unless..." Joe hedged, "Unless she _did_ mean it, and she really thought she was never going to see you again. She might say it then."

Frank let out a humorless laugh of frustration. "We're supposed to be good at reading each other... You'd think I'd know whether she was saying something real."

"Guess it depends." Joe shrugged. "I mean... do you want it to be real?"

Frank didn't have an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to read and review. I know I'm always going on about how much it means to me, and that's because it means a ton. So thanks.

Sorry it took so long to update. I hate writing endings; I just want to write conflict, none of this resolution stuff lol. I agonized over the last chapter of this story. Wrote three different endings for it, seriously. Hopefully you like the one I picked...

Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

* * *

It was good to be home, Frank thought. They'd only kept him in the hospital for two days, but it had felt like a week. A week of intrusive nurses, backless hospital gowns, and generic, flavorless jello.

He leaned heavily on the cane they'd given him as he entered the kitchen; his leg wasn't back up to full strength yet. With some effort, he managed to fill a glass of water and take the antibiotic pills that were supposed to prevent infection in his wounds. As he placed the glass in the sink, a flash of red-gold on the back porch caught his eye. As usual, the sight of her made his heart tighten in his chest.

Nancy.

She hadn't come to see him in the hospital, not while he was awake, anyway. Joe had given him some excuse about her spending too much time at the police station doing the cleanup, what with the bomb threat and the subsequent capture of the escaping Jake, but Frank wasn't sure that was the real reason she'd stayed away. Plus, he couldn't ask about her too often, not with Callie sitting by his side the whole time.

He limped over and slid open the sliding back door. Nancy visibly snapped out of her thoughts at the sound, and for a brief moment, surprise, embarrassment, and anxiety warred in her expression. She stood quickly from her patio chair, ready to help him if he needed it. "Frank, hey."

"Hey." They stood facing each other for a long moment, neither quite sure what to say, the last words they had said to each other hanging heavy between them.

He wasn't sure which one of them cracked a smile first, but all of the sudden his arms were around her and she was returning the embrace carefully. "I guess I owe you my life, again." Frank said into her hair.

She pulled back, shrugging off his thanks. "You would have done the same for me."

"I would have tried."

Nancy laughed softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're the brilliant one. You convinced McGill to let you make a phone call. You came up with the secret message. All I had to do was decode it, with some help from Joe." She shivered a little bit. "I can't believe how close I came to letting you down."

Frank gave her a smile that told her he'd never doubted. "I knew you'd figure it out. That's why I called you."

She was looking at the ground, her hands, the yard—anything but him. "I admit, I was wondering why me. Joe was furious it wasn't him, you know."

"Oh, yeah. He already let me have it for that. But I knew McGill wouldn't have let me call him." Frank explained. "I figured out that McGill used to be married. His wife was dead, but it was still important to him to wear his wedding ring and put flowers on her grave. I got the sense that he loved her a lot, so I played on his sympathies." Suddenly Frank was as unable to look at her as she was to look at him. "I convinced him to give me one last chance to talk to my girl."

"But instead, you called me." Nancy prompted softly. And there was the crux of the matter.

"Yeah. I knew you were my best chance, Nan." he admitted.

She ducked her head. "Right. Of course."

He knew immediately that he'd said the wrong thing. "That's not what I mean. I mean, yes, you're a detective. I knew you'd solve the code. But... you always seem to understand where I'm going. We think alike, you know?"

She laughed a little. "I know."

"I thought if anyone would be able to put those clues together, it would be you. And you did."

"And I did." she repeated. "Well... I understood what you meant by most of it, anyway. I guess I was a little thrown when you... well. You know."

Frank's lips tightened. She thought that his 'I love you' had been part of the code, and she was still trying to figure out what he'd meant by it. "Nan..."

She plowed on ahead, seeming to not want his explanations. "That was some good thinking, referencing the past bomb cases we've worked together to tell me that the cabin was rigged with C-4. And working in the names of the nearby boats, not many people would have been able to pull that off convincingly, without tipping off the kidnapper..."

"Nan-"

"Yes?" But before he could answer, she rushed on again. "Oh, god. Your leg. You shouldn't be standing on it like that. Let me help you." Taking his arm, she eased him down into the patio chair she'd just vacated. Frank wanted to protest, but in truth, his leg had been getting achy from standing. Once he was safely deposited in the chair, though, she turned from him and walked away a few paces, restlessly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. How are you feeling? I never asked."

"Nan. Nancy." The way she was rambling was kind of endearing, and that was why he needed her to stop. "Wait. Come back."

She paused in her pacing and came back to stand in front of him, looking almost reluctant.

"I'm okay. A little achy, but I'm gonna be fine. Thanks to you."

She swallowed and nodded. "I'm glad. I'm sorry I didn't come to visit you in the hospital. I spent a lot of time at the police station." She favored him with a shaky smile. "I don't think the cops in your town like me very much."

"Join the club." Frank joked. "If Joe and I didn't solve half their cases for them, I'm sure they'd have found a way to put us both in prison by now."

Despite the smile, she was looking a bit miserable. "Actually, the truth is that I... well, I did come, but I saw you with Callie and I couldn't face her. Not... not after what I said to you. I never meant to make things awkward between us, Frank. I'm sorry." She made to turn away again and Frank stopped her by grabbing her hand. She didn't pull away, but she wasn't exactly holding on, either.

"You don't have to be sorry." he said. That ever-present guilt was rearing its ugly head again.

"Yes, I do." Nancy argued. "You've got Callie, and I knew that. I've always known that. But when you said it to me, it didn't even occur to me that you were doing it to keep your cover. I just had this thought that it might be my very last chance to tell you, and I just... stopped fighting my instincts."

"Your instincts?" Frank repeated softly. If there had been any doubt that she'd meant what she said to him over the phone, it was completely gone now.

Her head was bowed to the floor. "I don't know. Maybe part of me wanted it to be true. I've always thought, maybe, you and I..."

God, the way she was blushing had his stomach twisting in knots. "Nan..." He hated to see her beating herself up over this... she wasn't the only one who'd thought about what it might be like, if they were ever to get together.

"Anyway," she continued, "I'm sorry. It was completely inappropriate. Maybe we can just chalk it up to... stress, or a near-death experience, or whatever?"

It wouldn't be the first time they'd chalked up one of their slip-ups to a near-death experience. His mind wandered briefly to a snowbound cabin in Colorado, where he'd kissed her in the heat of a desperate moment. He'd never given her any reason to believe that the feelings she tried to hide from him weren't mutual.

Because they were.

"I should..." Extracting her hand from his, Nancy took a few steps back from him and broke for the door. "I should go in. I told the police I'd call them later with-"

"Nancy!" Ignoring the pain in his leg, Frank pushed himself out of the chair. It was suddenly imperative that he not let her leave. "Just wait, would you? Stop running from me for a second."

Nancy froze in her tracks and turned around slowly. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Frank reassured her. "It's just, with the leg, I can't really chase after you right now. No matter how much I want to."

She glanced down at her feet, but there was a smile playing on the corners of her lips. "And why do you want to?"

"Because I think I love you too."

"Frank." she said after a long moment, her blue eyes wide with shock. "...What do you mean?"

"I'm done talking in code, Nan."

She walked back to him helplessly, as if she were being towed by an invisible rope. One of her hands found the unbruised side of his face, cupping it gently. The cane leaned forgotten against the table as his hands moved up to grip her arms.

She let out a little sigh. "Frank. When I said what I did..."

"I've been thinking about it since you said it." Frank admitted. "It's all I can think about."

"...I wasn't asking you for anything." she finished softly. "Callie loves you, and... and I love you. But it's been this way for a long time, since Egypt, probably. We could still just forget about it. Things don't have to change."

"Yes, they do." Frank answered seriously. "Callie was right. She should have been the one I called, the one I wanted to call. But she wasn't. And ignoring it isn't going to do anyone any good."

"A phone call? That's a stupid reason to break up with your girlfriend, Frank Hardy." Nancy admonished with damp eyes.

His grave expression softened. "Not the phone call, Nan. _This._" He slid his hands down her arms to catch hers and squeezed. "I love you too, Nan. I mean it."

"Yeah, I got it." she said with a watery laugh and squeezed back. "Can I make a confession?"

"Of course."

"I'm glad you didn't want to forget about it." she said guiltily, but her face was flushed and she was beaming. "It would have been really hard."

He couldn't help but smile back. "We've tried that before." he reminded her, "And it didn't work." He shifted his weight, wincing as he became aware of the ache in his leg. He sank back into the chair, waving off her expression of concern. "Actually, Nan, there is one thing you can do for me. Could you grab my cell off the kitchen counter?" He smiled reflectively. "I've got to make a phone call."

She was gone and back in a minute, pressing the phone into his hand. "Anything else?"

"A couple of hours?"

She nodded her understanding. "Of course. You're gonna be okay?"

"Yeah." He gave her hand one last squeeze. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple before going inside and shutting the door.

Somehow this phone call felt even harder than the last one he'd made.

She picked up immediately. "Frank, hi."

He took a deep breath. "Hey Cal. Do you mind if I come over?"

* * *

A/N: Sorry, Callie fans... I don't hate her either, but I'm a Nan girl at heart. I'll write a Frank/Callie someday, I promise!

Anyways, the end. What'd you think?


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